


Pull Together

by useyourlove



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Flash Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-08
Updated: 2012-04-08
Packaged: 2017-11-03 07:07:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/378664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/useyourlove/pseuds/useyourlove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kara has no idea how to confront Lee's depression after his spacewalk and settles for some physical contact. Originally posted at <a href="http://the-applecart.livejournal.com/7703.html?thread=319511#t319511">the_applecart</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pull Together

Kara tossed onto her side with a grunt, trying to dislodge the stupid thoughts jostling around in her stupid brain. Cain was dead. She didn't do it, but Cain was dead. _And so_ she thought _was Lee, just about_. Another shiver ran up her spine and she buried her fingers in her hair. The bunk room was dark when she came back from briefing, but she had tripped over the tray of food that she had brought him a few hours earlier. It was completely untouched.

Frak it. She wasn't just going to lie here all night brooding about it. She swung her feet to the floor, perched on the edge of her bunk tense enough to snap. She took a deep breath and held it for a while before she slowly blew it out, collecting herself. She snuffled loudly before wiping her nose on the back of her hand and then wiping her hand on her thigh.

No use just sitting here staring at the curtain on his bunk. She pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose for a moment, then slapped her knees and stood, bounding the three steps across the room to Lee's bunk before she could think better of it and stop. She ducked down, sliding beneath the curtain with barely a rustle and pulled herself up on to his mattress.

He didn't turn, he just lay there on his side staring at the wall.

"Lee?" she whispered. No response. She held her hand out towards him, but her fingers rebelled with a nervous wave halfway there and she pulled back. She was afraid he might shatter if she touched him. Or maybe she was afraid she would. She wasn't really sure. Her eyes sought out the corners of darkness in the bunk, but it was hard to see much aside from his outline. She wanted to clear her throat but didn't want to make the noise, so she swallowed hard. She laced her fingers, unlaced them, brought her hands to her mouth and thought. Then she closed her eyes and scrubbed at her face so hard that her skin felt loose.

Kara reached out her hand again, not letting it stop this time, and ever so gently her fingertips grazed his bicep.

"You're, um... you're not allowed to leave, Lee," she whispered, her fingers going tight around his shoulder. His skin was warm and she could hear his breathing hitch. "You have to stay here." He blew out a breath and curled his legs up. He reminded her of one of those little bugs that rolled up when you touched it. She remembered one whole afternoon when she was a kid, following one of them and poking it every time it thought it was safe enough to unroll. Her brow furrowed when she felt suddenly ashamed.

She let out a shaky sigh and steeled herself, lying down behind him, spooning her body around his. Every place that she could make contact she did. She wrapped her arm around him, her hand firmly lodged over top of his steadily beating heart. She nuzzled her nose into his hair, her eyes shut tight. She was pulling him so hard against her that they both felt as if their bones were under pressure.

"You've gotta stay here, you frakkin' idiot," her whisper cracked and she fell silent.

She wouldn't know. She wouldn't be able to tell that a tear had slid from the corner of his eye and soaked into his pillow. It was better that way. He wouldn't tell her what a useless ass he felt like, or how he felt as if he'd betrayed her--let her down somehow. He couldn't decide if her body pressed against his was a comforting place to lose himself or a sudden wash of guilt. He didn't care. With her hand planted over his heart as if she were keeping it in place--as if her body itself were the battery that kept it running--he could finally close his eyes, let the apathy drain away into a resigned sadness, and sleep.

The next morning she was gone.


End file.
